


Certainty

by Andian



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 20:54:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1483579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andian/pseuds/Andian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Man Who Is Not Small has reached for the planet, dark and looming, and The Man Who Is Not Tall sometimes wonders if it is real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Certainty

There is a planet of awesome size, all thick forests and turbulent oceans, dark and distant and sometimes so close it would be so easy just to reach and...

The Man Who Is Not Tall has not ever seen this planet. He does not ever wish to see this planet. In fact he is not even sure if that planet really does exist.  
It has to, he thinks on some nights that seem to be hot and cold at the same time, when he reasons that the noise of the air conditioner is why he can not sleep.  
It can not, he then thinks on days that are filled with the sound of pebbles crunching under his feet as he moves through the sand, that has not yet cooled from the hot blaze of the sun.  
Or maybe it is the other way around and those were the nights and those other times the days. The Man Who Is Not Tall gets confused sometimes. He does not like it when that happens. It worries him. It is day at the moment. Or at least the Man Who Is Not Tall believes that it is. The neon of the Moonlight All-Night Diner is on but it is always on, or at least the Man Who Is Not Tall believes that it is.  
He can see it in his dreams some nights, when he manages to sleep, when he manages to dream. Insignificant green on slightly less insignificant blue. It is significant in the dreams though, or at least the Man Who Is Not Tall believes that it is, significant green on slightly more significant blue. It is significant too, that the colors do change, on rare occasions during those rare dreams. 

The Man Who Is Not Tall takes another sip from his coffee. He does not want to think about his dreams. Not now, not here. Not ever.  
The Man Who Is Not Small sitting across of him looks at him thoughtfull. He is always looking at him thoughtfully, but he never says what he is thoughtful about. The Man Who Is Not Tall looks back at him.

“When will it be done?” he asks, putting down his cup. “Tonight.” says the Man Who Is Not Small, raising his cup.  
He is drinking coffee too, two sugars and no milk. The Man Who Is Not Tall knows this. He and the Man Who Is Not Small have been working together for some time now. They have been working together for exactly one year to be precise.  
The Man Who Is Not Tall nods before standing up. “Tonight.” he says as if it is an explanation and it is for the two of them. The Man Who Is Not Small nods too, but does not say anything. The Man Who Is Tall leaves the Moonlight All-Night Diner and The Man Who Is Not Small and the coffee he has not finished.

He drives home. He does not drives too fast. He doesn't drives too slow either. He just drives. The car is silent. He has not turned on the car radio, doesn't think he will either. The silence is not calming but rather a hushed shape that worries, not so much about the uncertainties of the coming future but rather about the certainties of the presence.  
The future is a god and the god is smiling and for the first time the Man Who Is Not Tall is concerned.

He arrives at home and he sits on his bed and stares at the empty wall across of it. There is not much in his room, expect for him and the bed and a small dresser. He keeps things in that dresser that are normal to keep in dressers, things like clothes and shoes. He also keeps another thing inside of it. Staring at the empty wall across of it he does try not to think about the other thing he is keeping in there.

Then he suddenly notices a movement, briefly, fleeting, seemingly only existing in the corner of his eyes. It is very real however. The Man Who Is Not Tall knows that. He knows better than anybody, though maybe not as much as the other person who is now with him in the room.

“Have you come for me?” The Man Who Is Not Tall asks, a feeling slowly creeping up to him.. He has not felt it in a long time. It is not concern. It is fear.

“In a way.” says the other man. He does not sound concerned. He does not sound anything anymore. The Man Who Is Not Tall can not really see him and he does not turn his head around to change this. He only hears his voice and sees the sleeves of his tan jacket.  
“A god is the future. And the future is smiling.” says Man In The Tan Jacket. The Man Who Is Not Tall does not want to hear this. He does not ever want to hear it.

“What do you want?” he asks and he does not want to hear that answer either.  
“It is too late.” says the Man In The Tan Jacket. “For some. But not for all.” He is silent for a moment, a silence shaping itself into the hushed figure of worry and of concerns. “It is not to late to exchange the certainties of the future for uncertainties of the presence.”  
He does not say more. He does not need to say any more. The Man Who Is Not Tall stares at the empty wall across of him before his glance wanders down to the small dresser and the thing in it he is not thinking about.

“There is a planet.” he then suddenly says, unexpected in the concerned silence that has filled the room before. “It's huge. Oceans, deep and turbulent, forests, thick and black, spinning, soundless and forgotten, in a sunless void. It is dark. And close. And looming.”  
He does not turn towards the Man In The Tan Jacket. He wants to.  
“I sometimes wonder if it does exist.”

The Man Who Is Not Tall can not see it. He does not wish to ever see it. He wants however one certainty in the uncertainty that is going to be his future.  
“You are not to blame.” says the Man In The Tan Jacket as if it is an explanation. It is not.  
The Man Who Is Not Tall still nods.

“Tonight.” he says then and the Man In The Tan Jacket says “Tonight. It will be done.” and there is no movement The Man Who Is Not Tall sees out of the corner of his eyes but he knows that the man is gone, just like he knows that it is almost night now. He does not just believes that it is. He knows that it is, with a sudden certainty that he does not fear like the certainties he had feared before.

He stands up and walks to the small dresser and takes out the thing he is now thinking about and says or maybe just thinks out loud or maybe does not even that.  
“Someone has to be to blame.”  
With the book full of crossword puzzle he leaves the room.


End file.
